


When I'm Not With You

by Tomatosoupful



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale stays behind, Bring on that angst, Crossover, Crowley is dusted, Infinity War, M/M, ineffable husbands, the snap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 15:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20449226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomatosoupful/pseuds/Tomatosoupful
Summary: MCU/Infinity War x Good OmensSnapping one’s finger can bring about lovely miracles or a small annoyance depending on who’s doing the snapping.No one ever suspected a snap to turn so universally deadly, but when Thanos uses the infinity stones, suddenly an angel and demon’s drive home is disturbed by humans suddenly disappearing in a cloud of dust. Followed closely by the demon himself.





	When I'm Not With You

**Author's Note:**

> A weird crossover I know but I thought it was a grand opportunity for angst.

On this day, an angel snapped his fingers to miracle a generous tip for the waiters at the Ritz.

On this day, a demon snapped his fingers to keep the traffic lights green as he drove back to the bookshop.

And on this day, in the country of Wakanda, a Titan snapped his fingers and ignited all infinity stones.

~o0o~

It began just as Crowley was driving the Bentley across an intersection. There was no reason for either to suspect anything could go wrong. So, it took Aziraphale a moment longer than usual to realise that there was, indeed, a truck about to crash straight into them, straight into Crowley’s side.

With a rush of adrenaline, Aziraphale used his magic to sweep the two of them out of their seats. They smacked abruptly on the sidewalk, Aziraphale’s chin scraping against cement.

“Angel –! What –?!” before Crowley could exclaim further there was a sudden intense bang and screech.

Both angel and demon gaped as the Bentley was violently pushed into the air. It seemed like it was flying until it clashed with the ground, metal bending painfully and windows shattering. The car’s roof skidded along the road, followed closely by the truck which had lost its balance. As if to rub salt on the already infected wound, the truck’s momentum kept going until it was intercepted by a building, the Bentley flattened in between the two. Once the crash’s ear-piercing noise ceased, Aziraphale heard the screaming Londoners and wailing sirens, and shivered.

That could have been them. He and Crowley would have been discorporated the moment the truck hit. And then separated. Although still trembling, Aziraphale felt relieved for saving them both, and turned to Crowley. He grimaced as he took in Crowley’s pale and dismayed face. His sunglasses had fallen off. There was nothing to hide his wide yellow eyes unable to tear away from the crumbled corpse of his beloved car.

“Oh, Crowley dear,” Aziraphale said gently, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

As though he didn’t hear him, Crowley shot to his feet and ran towards the truck.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale called, going after him. He feared for the truck driver’s life, whether from the crash or the furious incoming demon, he couldn’t say.

The truck’s accessible door was yanked open. Crowley reached in to grab the driver but his furiousness suddenly stammered. He frowned; eyes narrow as he scanned the inside.

“What’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked worriedly, imagining the driver had suffered the worst of the worse injuries.

Crowley awkwardly looked at him. “Uhhhh,” he mumbled, knocking his knuckles against a broken sideview mirror, with each hard tap another piece of glass fell out. Cringing, Crowley admitted, “Can’t find him.”

Aziraphale’s mouth opened and closed, then he joined in Crowley’s frowning. He…hadn’t expected that. “What do you mean?”

“There’s no one in here.”

At that Crowley, leapt off the truck and landed next to Aziraphale. The demon stared at the angel as if waiting for an answer. Well, unfortunately, Aziraphale had no such a thing. Befuddled, he repeated slowly, “There’s no one there?”

Crowley nodded.

“…How?”

“Bugger if I know,” Crowley said, then added with a glare. “He better hope I never find him after –”

A woman screamed.

Something about the scream sent a shiver up their spines. They felt a kind of fear unusual for nearly indestructible immortal beings. They turned to the direction and saw it.

A woman was panicking, dropping her purse. Before her eyes were her hands. They had lost their colour as though in an old black and white film. The discolouration was quickly climbing up her arms to reach the rest of her body. And then, the very shape of her limbs began to crumble away. Humans close by shrieked; some fleeing, and others frozen in shock.

“Angel …?” Crowley hissed sharply.

He and Aziraphale watched with horror as the woman seemed to fall apart against her will, piece by piece, atom by atom. Her screams dimmed as the dust making up her body broke apart and drifted away as though carried off by a sigh of wind. Then even the dust that made her up blinked out of existence. There was a moment of stunned and terrified silence as the fate of the woman sunk in.

And then another cry.

This time, it was a father. He was grasping at his young daughter’s face as her body underwent the same process. “No – no! Katie – _No!_ Stay with me –!” the father begged.

His daughter, too young to understand what was happening, only stared at her dad in puzzlement as she dissolved away. Her father’s hands clutched desperately at the empty space, pleading and sobbing.

Then, one by one, more and more humans began to disappear. Aziraphale and Crowley instinctively drew close to each other before abandoning the awful scene, racing down a street and exclaiming to each other.

“Do you know what’s happening?!”

“Of course not! Is this not your side’s doing?!”

“Can’t be! Too hands off! But your side’s got the God who likes creative punishments!”

Aziraphale shook his head, then gasped when Crowley took his wrist and dragged him down a side street. Familiar with the surroundings, there was a pleasant feeling knowing Crowley was leading them back to the bookshop, but it was quashed quickly at the memory of the humans’ grief and fear. “It’s _not_ Her,” Aziraphale defended fiercely. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Crowley snorted, but didn’t bring up moments in history where God got grumpy. He just kept on running, guiding Aziraphale along.

As soon as they exited the side street out onto a main one, they stiffened. Just like before, the humans here were consumed in a storm of terror and misery as half were dissolving into dust and others were left behind. Crowley’s grip on Aziraphale’s wrist tightened. “What the fuck is going on?” the demon seethed.

Sickness rolling in his stomach, Aziraphale decided, “We should try to contact Heaven. Surely they must know.”

“_No_!” Crowley shot down the suggestion, so harshly it took the angel by surprise. “What if this _is_ Heaven’s doing? What if this is a trap or – or _something_ to mess with us?”

“They wouldn’t do _this_ much just to interfere with us.”

“You don’t know that!” Crowley retorted, in a tone Aziraphale knew very well. The kind of tone that promised _nothing_ was going to change the demon’s mind. His commitment was as strong and fierce as a snake’s hold on its prey. “I’m not risking you, angel. Whatever this is we’ll figure it out together.”

_Together_… Despite the situation they had found themselves in, Aziraphale smiled at the thought.

His smile gave Crowley the assurance he needed; the grip of his wrist loosened until release.

Aziraphale glanced down to take the demon’s hand instead – his smile fell. Fell as sudden and harsh and painful as the demons cast out of Heaven.

Crowley’s hand. It was grey and dusting.

“Crowley_…_” Aziraphale said weakly, as realisation settled in.

He couldn’t move, as though his vessel had seized up and broken. Crowley took in the state of his limbs. The dying colours, the solidness of his form fading away into specks. The angel and demon’s eyes met and, in that moment, they both felt it. It wasn’t just Crowley’s body, but his very essence dissolving away as well.

Immediately, tears sprang and Aziraphale desperately shook his head. “_S-_stop. This – This isn’t funny.”

“Wish I was joking.”

Crowley never looked so exhausted, heavy bags under his eyes and hair in disarray. Clenching his teeth, the demon watched the discolouration crawl to his torso. “Fuck… _fuck_,” he hissed.

There was a heart wrenching look of betrayal from him. Aziraphale prayed that this _better_ not be punishment from God, that She wasn’t involved in this or so help him he would march straight up to Her and demand Her to return everything back to normal regardless of what happened to him.

“Aziraphale …”

The demon’s fingers vanished between them.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale snapped out of his limited movement, leaping forward and grabbing the demon’s shirt. “There has to be a way to – hang on, let me try …” he snapped his fingers, willing a miracle to save his best friend.

They both waited. Nothing, except the continuous destruction of Crowley’s very existence.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers again, and again and again, pushing, tugging, dragging Heavenly magic to bend to his will. It wasn’t _working_. “Why isn’t it –?!”

“– Angel…”

“Crowley, _do something!_”

There were no hands left to summon magic, so Crowley’s dimming essence weakly reached down below to the core of Hell instead. Aziraphale waited for something, _anything_, to happen. Despair curled agonizingly within him as Crowley silently shook his head. His beautiful red hair had gone grey, as though aged. Aziraphale’s whole body shook, Crowley’s shirt wrinkled in his tight grip.

“Don’t – Crowley, don’t!”

Crowley shrugged, smiling helplessly. “Better me than you.”

“Don’t speak like that!” Aziraphale demanded furiously, desperately. “We’ll figure this out. I just – I’ll think of – of something. I’ll fix this.”

Despite the situation, Crowley laughed softly. “If anyone can, it’s you.”

Before Aziraphale could say another word, he was pulled into an aching hug. Against his will, tears rolled down his cheeks. He could still hear the cries of humans, the sounds of London falling apart. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be a nightmare. Crowley must have successfully convinced him to sleep and this was a bad dream. This couldn’t –

“I’m sorry …” Crowley whispered.

Aziraphale stumbled forward, the solid form he was hugging collapsing in his arms. Gasping wetly, he reached with his hands to grab a body no longer there; reached with his Heavenly essence to search for the demonic presence. It was gone too. Nothing. There was _nothing_. Aziraphale didn’t need to breathe but he couldn’t stop the panicking gasps shaking through his chest.

“C-Crowley. Crowley!” the angel watched the final specks of dust that once made up his demon completely disappear. “No, no, no. _Crowley!_”

He tried to move but his knees gave up on him. The pain of smacking against the ground couldn’t compare to the utter despair and misery drowning the angel. 6000 years of knowing and feeling the demon and it was **_gone_**.

If this truly was God’s Will then Aziraphale regretted every single moment of his existence believing in Her.

~o0o~

Far away, on a distant planet, a Titan by the name of Thanos sank in the glory of finally completing his mission. After everything he had done, the promised survival of existence was now guaranteed. His plan, it had been inevitable.

_Ah, but not ineffable_, God thought to Herself.

**Author's Note:**

> When I first thought up this idea, I was actually going to have Aziraphale turn to dust but then I realised Crowley has already gone through believing his beloved was dead. It’s Aziraphale’s turn now. I think it worked better this way.  
Up next: we’re going to learn who, in the Good Omens cast, survived and which ones turned to dust.


End file.
